


Catamitus

by demon_dream



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: Abuse, Akabane Karma is a Little Shit, Asano Gakuhou is a terrifying man, Assassination Plot(s), Coup d'état, Coup de grâce, F/M, Gladiator AU, Gore, Isogai and Maehara as priests, Karma in a position of power, M/M, Nagisa being Nagisa, Roman AU, Slaves, a bit of philosophy, a lot of blood, a lot of wine, court intrigue, erastes and eromenos, gakushuu is a very angry young man, sometimes it's even historically accurate, we're talking gladiators and assassinations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 08:35:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7837822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demon_dream/pseuds/demon_dream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which royals are poisoned and kleos is to be won on the sands of the arena, a madman sits on the throne and the Fates place bets on which sad little guinea pig will take the plunge and become the unsung antihero behind the scenes. This is not about sweeping victories and convenient gods dropping in to crush the enemy in glorious battle. This is about the mysterious bloodstains that keep appearing in out-of-the-way corridors and the slow smiles shared by father and son as the pawns move closer and closer to their scandalous endgame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catamitus

**Author's Note:**

> I'm mostly putting this out to see if anyone is interested. It's Roman themed but not necessarily historical fiction, inspired by those exam episodes. It's unedited and aimless for now until I discover a worthy, concrete plot. I'm also attempting to get a better handle on these characters, so join me in a little experimentation. Enjoy.

   We fight to entertain.  
    _(old blood stains the damp stone floor, reeking of fungus and rust. shallow, heavy breaths echo through the cell bars, a thin sliver of fang and chains collaring a bruised throat the only things visible in the gloom.)_  
   We live to serve.  
    _(cheering, flowers falling to the golden sand as the crowd roars approval and fresh crimson spurts beneath the fall of a silver blade. no one but the victor hears the crack and split of bone beneath the strike.)_  
   In our line of work, there's only one way to earn glory.  
    _(dirty feet and the growling of beasts, hands shaking the bars and flashes of desperate eyes, the paws of a great cat battering the cage and slitted orange burning wild between the slats. chains rattle and a soldier walks by marking off inventory on a clipboard.)_  
   You return with your shield...  
    _(metal clanks as the great gate rises, sunlight searing a path into the abyss as monster and man get their first look at their prey. the man is barely such. the monster steps forward.)_  
   Or on it.  
    _(blood sprays the sand, and the crowds cheer.)_

* * *

**CATAMITVS**

* * *

  
   Overlooking a courtyard in the western wing of the palace, immaculate white robes blended near perfectly with the white marble colonnade. Near perfectly, but for the wine-dark purple edging the hem. A bulls'-horn chalice inlaid with amethyst and gold rested on the balustrade, one thin aristocratic finger idly tracing the purifying spells carved into the rim. Below, a tall fountain trickled bright water into a mosaic basin, Nereus and Herakles struggling in eternal silence beneath the quiet ripples of the pool. The opposite end of the courtyard fell away to a set of stairs that led to a small nymphaeum, dark and quiet but for the endless murmur of water over the mossy laps of the Nereid statues. The marble court with a double layer of balconies was only accessible from the prince's chosen suite or the neighboring rooms of whatever guest he may invite. It had been vacant since long before his own father ascended to the throne, empty halls and frozen mosaics, the gleaming marble cold beneath his feet.  
   Pale lilac eyes fixated sightlessly on the sparkling fountain so far below, images of small wooden ships sailing a paper sea and enemy figurines falling beneath his hand as he planned destruction and victory in the high-strung company of generals and advisors swimming through his head. Again and again, he tried different strategies, plotted contingencies, amassed the toy armies and watched them burn. He should have won. He would have won.  
   He had lost more than ships, and the grander scheme had taken a turn to his father's advantage. He could not afford another mistake like that one if he wanted absolute power. His finger stilled on the cup, frown deepening.  
   Behind him, footsteps. Familiar ones. "Prince Gakushuu."  
   "Lord Akabane." Young, about his own age. Son of a lesser noble and a foreign woman. His father was currently on errand as an ambassador. The wife, a redheaded Egyptian woman, remained in Antinopolis at their estate. The young lord himself was being kept within sight of the royal palace. No one could tell for sure if it was merely to take advantage of the fine scholars and opportunities housed in the capitol, or an... investment on the Emperor's part. Nothing encouraged loyalty like having the neck of one's heir within easy reach. The thought almost made him smile. "What rouses the young lion from his patch of sunlight?"  
   "The brooding eagle and his plutonian shadow." He could just about hear the smirk in the other's voice, the low purr like a jungle cat as he eyed the back of the prince's neck until it prickled with warning. Gakushuu refused to give him the satisfaction of turning around. They both knew the lord had no motivation to kill him other than possible mayhem, and Gakushuu was willing to take the risk. Those quiet footfalls passed around him until their owner was lounging against a nearby column, sunlight slanting across an aristocratic cheekbone and fine jaw. From this angle he could see the red-gold gleam of the other's wildcat eyes. "I guess I'd be depressed too if I metaphorically fucked over my own army. How's your ego healing up?"  
   "If I was in need of commentary from the audience, I would visit the Coliseum." The prince murmured serenely. Akabane cackled to himself, teeth flashing.  
   "Badly, then. You couldn't pay me to be in your shoes. The Emperor is going to roast you alive."  
   "Thank you, but I don't need the reminder." Violet eyes slid in the other's general direction. "He will have a few choice words for me, if he even bothers to remember I exist."  
   "I'd say losing that many ships would be a great reminder, right up there with the three-month aches you had from Alastor kicking you in the chest."  
   The imperial heir glared and clenched the balustrade hard at the memory. "That horse of yours is demonic, and I still say you trained the damn thing to attack me on sight."  
   Akabane hummed merrily and looked out into the courtyard. "Who can say?"  
   The other rolled his eyes, lifting himself from his hunched position over the rail and grimacing as his back twinged from the discomfort, leaning back to mirror his associate's pose against a column. He picked up his cup to drink, paused, and glared tiredly at the empty vessel. He shook it as if the motion would conjure more wine without needing to summon a servant. Regrettably, the motion caught Akabane's attention. The man crowed with delight.  
   "Someone's having a rough day! You never use the poison-purifying stuff if you can help it. Didn't you tell me it was all a bunch of horse shit since your uncle was poisoned with an ivory wine cup?" He grinned like those wolves he'd seen chained in his father's courtyard, hungry and feral with the scent of weakness in his nose, fur reddened, and for a moment he imagined the sadistic young lord's hair was reddened by his own blood before the world righted itself again. He blinked placidly at the man, chin tilted up just so.  
   "No one in their right mind would give a royal poison-purifying tableware that actually worked." He reasoned. "At least, no one clever would. It would be much too inconvenient later on."  
   "Would it?" And here Gakushuu felt himself _sharpen_  in a way he rarely did with anyone else, as the mind behind those tiger-gold eyes clicked and spun in dizzying patterns, bright like swords beneath the glinting surface of a stream. "What if the giver had reason for wanting a certain royal alive?"  
   The prince's own eyes narrowed, burning. "Then I would hope he would be more intelligent than to rest his chances solely on a magical bit of pottery."  
   Lord Karma Akabane smiled wickedly, and inclined his head. "As you say."

**Author's Note:**

> Let's put a new spin on killing the unkillable, shall we?


End file.
